Impossible
by LaylaGreene
Summary: Willow is the daughter of the Mockingjay. She has a great life. A lifelong friend, a brother, loving parents, aunts and uncles. However, all of that changes when one little secret is told, a twist of events, and so much more. "No," Willow gasps. "That's impossible." ON HIATUS
1. One Moment

"Ok, Willow, pull the arrow back to your cheek," my mother instructs. I follow her instructions. "Now," she says again, "you see that apple on that branch. Concentrate and let the arrow fly." I take in a deep breath. I focus on the apple. As I breathe out, I release the arrow.

It's as if everything is slowed down. The arrow makes its way through the air, slicing it with ease. It is a few feet away from the apple, a few inches, centimeters. I gasp. It skimmed the apple.

My mother smiles as I go down on a rock. I missed it! How can the daughter of the Mockingjay miss? My mother notices my position. She crouches down to my level and says, "You know, you are better than me when I was nine." I lower my head down.

"Mom, stop trying to make me feel good. I missed it!" I tell her.

"Your father was right."

"About what?"

"You having my fire, or as Aunt Johanna says, my stubbornness." I just sit there. I have my mother's personality. But, I could never live up to her.

"Why don't you try one more time," she suggests. I take a deep breath.

I stand up again. I pull the arrow back to my cheek. Concetrate on the apple. I breathe in. I release the arrow again. I watch as the arrow slices throught the breeze once again. Then, there it sounds. The arrow plunges itself near the center of the apple. Not the center, but I guess it will do. Mother goes over there and plucks the apple from its branch.

"See," my mother says. "You're great. Here." She hands the apple to me. I gratefully take it. I pull the arrow out of it. I am about to bite it when-

"Catnip?" someone says. My mother freezes. Her face turns pale. I have heard that nickname before. Someone used to call Mom that, right?

A man with features like my mother's emerges from the trees with a boy, maybe ten years old, with him.

"Is that really my Katniss Everdeen?" he asks. My mother places an arm around me and holds me tight.

"My name is Katniss Mellark," she spits. The man's eyes widen and they look at me.

"I'd like you to meet my daughter, Willow Mellark," she says.

"Don't tell me that you married Baker Boy and had a child," the man says.

"Correction, Gale, children," she retorts. Oh yeah, go mom! Wait, Gale? Isn't he the one who killed my Aunt Prim? Oh, it's on!

"What about you," I spit. "Who's the kid?" Dad is right. I do have fire.

"I am his nephew," the boy says. He does look like this "Gale." "My name is-"

"Like I would want to know," I spit. I usually am not this impolite, for my father taught me better, but if this man is who I think he is, I have no problem.

The boy clenches his fists.

"Catnip, you belong with me! How dare you marry another!" shouts the man. My mom stands her ground.

"You have no right to call me that. I don't love you like that! I love you like a brother, perhaps. But, not like that!"

"What do you think I was going to say when the peacekeepers tore us apart?! I was going to say that I love you!" My mother whispers to me, "Sweetie, go into hiding near the lake. Don't worry." I nod and run out of the little clearing.

Oh, Mom, you do know that I am a bit too curious. Instead, of running towards the lake, I hide behind a tree.

"Damn it, Gale! Don't you get it! I love Peeta. The man who actually knows what I go through! The man who actually gave me hope! The man who saved my life!" I heard my mother shout.

"But, Katniss, I love you," the man says. I am about to hear what my mother would say when someone covers my mouth with their hand a wraps another one around my stomach.

"You're coming with me, Willow," the voice says. I know it's not Gale. It must be that boy. He drags me deeper into the forest as I kick and try screaming, but all that comes out are muffled cries. The kicking, pushing, and pulling only bring bruises to my stomach.

Suddenly the boy screams and let's go of me. I am taken by surprise. I look to the boy, now on the ground. He has a bit of a lump on his head.

A hand grabs mine and starts running. I have no choice but to follow whoever this is.

"Who are you?" I shout as we rush by trees.

"Youre lucky I was there," the boy says. We run through the forest until we reach the clearing where Mom and Gale were fighting. They're still there. Except for one detail. My father is there as well. We are always close to the forest.

My father and Gale are as if wrestling each other my father has a bleeding lip while it looks like Gale has a broken nose. My mother stands off to the side. I guess this just started happening.

The bow! I look to the small bow my mother gave me. I can't believe they didn't drop. My luck.

I pull out my bow and one arrow. Now, I can't kill him. Where would the worst pain be? The shoulder.

Now, concentrate. Gale is now pinning my dad on the floor.

Now! I release the arrow and it hits its target. Gale screams I pain. My dad and mom are looking at me with astonishment. Gale starts to get up. I emerge from my spot and take out another arrow and aim for his head.

"I don't want to see you again!" my mother and I shout, simultaneously. Gale runs off to, well, I don't care. Once he is gone, mother runs to my father, who clearly has many bruises.

"Katniss, I'm so-" dad says, but gets cut off when Mom puts her lips against his own. I, instead of rushing to my father, I stand there holding my stomach. I just realized that I still have bruises from trying to get away from that nephew of Gale.

"Are you all right," asks a voice. The boy who rescued me comes in front of me. I can now clearly see who he is. He has hazel brown eyes. He has smooth olive skin and his hair. His hair is jet black, but it does have a streak of white on the side. The only word that comes up is "Capitol." Usually, I'd walk away from this kind of kid. His parents watched my parents as they suffered. I may not know much of the Games, but I know that they were perfectly horrid. However, this boy saved my life.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I take a step and realize that there is something wrong with my ankle, or foot. I'm not much of a doctor. I wince in pain.

"You are not fine," says the boy. He goes to my side. He guides my hand so that it is over his shoulder. He places his arm under mine and props me up.

"Name's John," he explains, looking into my eyes. I look into his eyes, mesmerized by their color.

"Willow, my name is Willow."


	2. Scared for the First Time

Seven years later:

"The Hunger Games were a disgrace, and they shall never be repeated," Mr. Porter states.

RING! Finally, school's over.

"Willow," Mr. Porter says, "I'd like to see you after class." I hurry up with packing.

"See ya outside, Willow," says John as he passes by. I smile. John and I have become so close ever since the incident. A bit too close is what my brother says. But, I don't care.

"Willow!" shouts Mr. Porter.

"Coming!" I yell back. I pack quicker and walk to my teacher.

"Yes, Mr. Porter," I say.

"Did your parents inform you on their involvement," he asks me. I simply nod. I know the devastating events that happened. I only now the basics, I guess you would call it. Mom was the face of the rebellion; dad was her lover. Something complicated happened that I don't know of. I now of the games itself. And I must say that it is amazing that both my parents were able to survive the two Games they were in.

"Just making sure they told you. You are dismissed," Mr. Porter says. I nod again and run out of the classroom and into the hallway.

Now, where is John? I spot him at the middle of the hallway, probably writing or reading. Now, to have some fun.

I walk silently and slowly towards him. I am right behind him when-

"Gotcha!" he shouts, turning around and grabbing me by the waist. He swings me around like he did when we were kids. It's amazing that he still has so much strength. But again, that's something I admire.

I squeal in delight as he swings me around. I place hands on his neck to steady myself. He sets me down and touches his forehead to mine. He always has been about a head taller than me. he looks deep into my eyes. I get a better grip on his neck and look into his brown eyes. It's a very mesmerizing color if you ask me. He gives me a quick peck on the cheek. I smile as the warmth rushes through me. He looks back at me.

"Where's my kiss?" he whines playfully. I chuckle.

"You are not getting anything, John," I tease. He makes a face, saying, "Why not?"

"Because I need to pick up my brother!" I say. I try to wiggle out of his arms, but he just holds me tighter. I look back to his eyes and lean in closer.

I whisper, "You really want a kiss?" I feel him nod. When his arms star to relax, I slip out of them. I look back waving saying, "Got to catch me first!" John crosses his arms over his chest. I smirk at the sight.

I look forward and run towards my little brother's class. I accidentally run into someone. We clash and the person falls. I turn around.

"I am so sor-" I start to apologize. But, then. I realize it's Ella. She is from the a richer part of town. Of course, I'm more well-known, with my mother being the Mockingjay and all. This gets on her nerves and she's been torturing ever since the beginning.

"On second thought, I guess I'm not," I spit at her. She gets up and flips her straight blonde hair over her shoulder. Her blue have a coldness in them that can freeze anything, anyone. Except, me. She, as always, wears items from satin. For some reason, she loves purple. It's disgusting.

"Oh, look if it isn't the little bird," she says, facing me. Her icy eyes trying to freeze me in my spot. I don't even flinch.

"Look," Ella says, "Mockingjay can't talk." I smirk, and think of something quick. There are enough people here to hear.

"I can't talk now, but I can sing," I sing. "Now, step aside, little girl, cause you don't want to. You don't to want mess with me! Yeah!" I sing it in such a strong voice and a bit of a jazz touch to it.

Some look at me with admiration. Others look at Ella with disgust. It is true that almost everybody hates her. I push past her and smile at my accomplishment. I am seriously the only one who can stand up to her. Well, except John of course. Although, he's a bit too nice to her for my taste. But, of course, i love him for it.

I start to run to my brother's classroom. I finally arrive at the classroom. I find my brother surrounded by a few of his friends. He is a popular person in first year high school. Although, behind the popularity is boy who loves to draw and has words that can move a mountain.

"Jason!" I shout. He looks over at me and waves. I roll my eyes and make a motion saying, "come over here." He smiles at me. Jason politely excuses himself and comes towards me.

"Hey, Willow," he greets me. I smile. "Is John here?" he asks looking around.

"No, why?" I ask curiously. He has been asking so much about him. we start walking out of school, for the exit is near Jason's classroom. We start to walk through the Seam.

"Willow, cards on the table. Um... Well, Mom and Dad have been acting weird ever since, well, you know."

"Ever since he admitted he liked me," I say. "Look, Jason, all of us know what happened to John and I when we were little. We can trust him." I am starting to get annoyed. I mean, what's wrong with John. He saved my life that day.

"Look, Willow, I didn't mean to get you mad. I'm just worried," he says with a sorrowful tone. I look to my little brother. He is only two years younger than me. I can't stay mad at him. It is true that he is very protective.

"It's ok. Just, don't worry so much," i tease, nudging him in the shoulder. He smiles. He starts to talk about his day: his friends, his schoolwork, things that were out of the ordinary. I listen. I'm not much of a talker. I mean I am not popular, nor am I a loner. I have John, and other girls who aren't scared of me. So, nothing interesting happens in my life ever since the time Gale went to "visit."

Someone bumps into me, having me stumble a bit. Jason is there just in time to at least steady me. I expect to hear an apology from whoever this is. However, it never comes.

"What's your problem?" I spit at the boy. He's probably a year or two older than me. He looks like he's from the Seam. I mean what used to be the Seam. Everything now is like Victor's Village. He has all the features: dark brown hair, gray eyes, olive skin. He looks so familiar. I just can't put my finger on it. He just smirks. Jason puts a hand on my arm, telling me to calm down.

"Don't tell me you don't remember me," he says, that smirk still plastered on his face. I remove Jason's hand. I place my arm in front of him protectively. No one hurts him.

"Let me guess," I tease. "Oh I know, you're the guy who bumped into me without an apology!"

"Oh, no, no, no," he says. He leans in closer, but I don't flinch.

"Remember when I was ten, and you were nine, trying to shoot an apple," he whispers. My eyes widen. No, it can't be. It can't be him. I immediately remove any sign of emotion from my face. The despicable boy straightens himself up. I keep my face clear of any emotion.

I lean down to my brother and whisper, "Jason, go to the house ok?" He looks up to me. His eyes are full of worry. I hope mine show what I want: _I can handle it, don't worry._ He seems to understand. He nods and walks casually to the house. Although, I am sure he will get Mom and Dad.

I turn my attention to that guy. He sneers at me.

"Is the Mockingjay's daughter scared?" He whispers in my ear. That only frightens me even more. It sends cold shivers down my spine. I grit my teeth.

"In your dreams," I say. Oh, if I had my arrow you'd be dead now. Do I have a knife in my backpack?

A cloth is tied over my mouth tight. I struggle with all my might. I kick and try to scream. Does this guy have cousins or something? The hands that gagged me go away for spilt second. I take a small step and almost untie the cloth, but another pair of arms wrap themselves around my stomach. I freeze at their touch. I look up to find those harsh gray eyes. I hope my eyes don't show any emotion, but I think it's too late for that.

"Aw, look little bird is scared," he says. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you." For the first time in seven years, I'm terrified.

**AN: I know that a secret should be revealed soon, but bear with me, it will come. By the way, THANK YOU SO MUCH for so many great reviews. I never thought this story would get this many viewers. **


	3. Hazel Eyes

I am pushed into a home much like mine. The same layout with the dining/kitchen room with the phone, ahead of that the living room. In front of me now is the stairs which should lead to the bedroom. Beside the stairs is the narrow hallway that leads to the bathroom.

I turn around to see Gale's nephew close and lock the door. I stand there straight. I refuse to go down. He tied my hands and of course my mouth is still gagged. I glare daggers at what's-his-name and his relative. If I had my bow, a knife, a club, anything, those two would be dead.

They are going to have to release me sooner or later. I mean what can they do to me? They can't kill me. That would do nothing. Torture? What would torturing me do? They can only do that if they want something or someone who cares about me. Jason? No, they don't even know him. Mom? Possibility, but they can't defeat her. She would sure come with a bow and arrows or some plan that involves me escaping. Dad? Possibility as well, but he can easily knock the both of them out. But, since it's Dad, he might get backup as well. Who could they possibly be aiming for?

"Well, little bird," says that despicable nephew. My hands itch for a bow. He comes towards me with a knife in his hand. I start to freeze, afraid that one move will trigger pain. I can't believe I'm actually following this. The man's knife comes up to my throat, threatening to slice it. He backs me up to the wall of the hallway. The contact makes a loud thud. I hate this guy. His gray eyes bore into mine. I keep a straight face.

"Now, I'm going to remove the gag. You will not scream or this knife may have a nice shade of red," he says. His other hand comes up and unties the gag. It falls to the ground and my mouth is shut. I'd rather be shot in the head.

"Good bird," he mocks.

"You are despicable," I spit.

"Aw, little bird, don't insult the one who rescued you," he says, holding my cheek. I don't turn like he wants me to. It will just cut my throat. I growl instead.

"You're right. I should be insulting the one who kidnapped me!" I say. His mouth turns into a smirk so wide, I want to slap it off his face.

"Well," he says, "I guess John never told you." Anger boils inside of me.

"Don't drag John into this!" I shout. The grind of the knife pushes against my throat and I gasp. I turn my head and close my eyes. Don't cry, Willow.

"You are so blind, bird. You haven't even figured it out yet," he says. I keep my eyes closed. Figured out what? What is there to know? So, he came from the Capitol. He was found abandoned. What else is there to know about his history? John tells me everything. We have since we were young. He told me about his problems at the community home. He told me about being at the Capitol. He told me that Ella tried flirting with him once, (and she was of course punished for that). He told me about his fear of heights and the death of me and my family. He tells me everything.

"Now," he says, "here is what I want you to do." I still avert my eyes to the hallway. I can't do this.

"I need you to stay still, don't scream, don't run, while we get your precious John." i squirm at the name. I can't do this, but one thing is straight. No one hurts John.

"Don't you lay a finger on him!" I shout. The knife's grind pushes even harder on my throat that I have to struggle to breathe.

"Listen, and listen good!" he shouts at me. "if you even scream, or run into his arms or move a muscle, he will die." I close my eyes. No, there has to be a way out. The knife pulls away from my throat, but the edge rests on it, ready to slice the delicate skin. I keep my eyes shut, now wanting to cry.

Just then,the door slams open.

"Willow!" I shut my eyes even tighter. No, it can't be him. No, he's at home, doing the big project, or helping my dad at the bakery, or helping my mother skin the squirrels. He's not here!

My body reacts before i can tell it not to. And sure enough see the same hazel eyes.


	4. Different Point of View

_That is not him._

_That is not him. _

_That is not- _oh, who am I kidding?! John is right there with a sword on his belt like during training. His eyes are fixed on mine. I bite the inside of my mouth making sure not to scream his name. If there's one thing I know about the Hawthornes, it's the ability to trap.

"Let her go, Dylan," he says, his hazel eyes focusing on the Hawthorne. His sword is already drawn and he is in position.

"Ha!" says "Dylan." "Why should I? You don't want to hurt her?" Dylan pushes the grind of the knife once again to my throat. My oxygen starts to shorten. I hope i don't show it. My lungs start to burn. I can't hold it anymore. I take an unsteady deep breath. John's eyes go to mine automatically. His sword goes down. No, don't put it down. Please don't give up.

"Let her go," he says in a softer voice. "Please." it's like real venom is outlining his words. The grind of the knife pulls back a bit. I breathe once again.

"To you. No, I don't think so. You didn't even trust her with a certain secret." John keeps his eyes on Hawthorne. However, a flash of guilt and sorrow flashed in his eyes so fast that only i could see it. What secret?

Then, I see it. John crosses his fingers. When we were little the crossing of fingers signaled something like "Game nearby," or "Now." Either way it was like an unspoken language meaning strike.

All of a sudden, Jason comes from behind Dylan and pierces his left shoulder. Dylan, out of pain, let's me go, the knife falling from him. Jason unties the rope. Then, out of nowhere at all, Dylan comes out and hits my brother in the arm. My brother stumbles back. Before, I can hjerk hat jerk for laying a finger on my brother, John does it for me. His sword comes from behind and scrapes his left shoulder where I can still see the blood from my brother's knife. They fight, Dylan with a knife and John with his sword. I go to my brother.

"Jason, go home," I shout. "Now," I add. The bow was originally used in the rebellion. Mother sent it toHe just nods his head. He exits hastily. I look to the two boys. As John fights, he spares a moment to look me in the eyes and mouth "Go." I can't leave him here.

I think of what my brother would do. I imagine him running to John and telling him what happened. I visualize John getting his sword and sprinting towards the woods. I know Jason would get a knife, stop, and look to my mother's old bow. He grabs the bow and arrows. Bow and arrows! He must have take it for me to help John.

I run around the house to where I know Jason would have entered. I look around and find a bush. I smile and reach under the plant. I feel my mother's old bow. I pull it out. It's the one Mother used in the rebellion. Mother sent it to District three to be modified to my voice only.

"Hello," i say to it. The bow vibrates in my hand. I take the quiver and sling it over my shoulder. I look through the open door to find the two fighting.

The sword and knife clash. I lift my bow and arrow. Where should I shoot. I want him to feel pain, but I don't want him to come after John again. What should I do? I aim for the shoulder. I breathe in and release as I breathe out. I close my eyes trying to prevent myself from hearing the scream. Instead, I hear nothing. I open my eyes ever so slowly.

The scene is not at all good for my stomach and my mind for this matter. Dylan must have moved as the arrow sliced the air. The arrow pierced his head.

John looks to the body with shock in his eyes. He looks to me. I can't look into his eyes. He is scared of me now. Almost everyone is. Now, the only true friend I have is also terrified of what I can do. I can't believe it. Why did Dylan have to move his head?! I don't want to be like Snow, killing every living soul in sight. I can't. I just killed someone. He could've had someone who cared about him. He might have had sisters... or a little brother. And I just killed him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see John extend his hand to me. I break there and then. I run deeper into the forest. I can't do this. Everyone will hate me. Even little Jason may look at me with different eyes. They'll just see a duplicate of a hated president that killed children for more than seventy years. I run until I know I know I'm there.

A willow tree. My willow tree.

_AN: thank you very much for the great reviews! I am so sorry. The chapters are shorter than I expected. I promise that the next one will be longer. _


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